Page 22 of Toxic

He confessed he’d been exploring kinbaku since he was a teen. He was able to use the practice to focus and explore the darker side of his nature.

My husband was a pleasure torturer. A sadist. As chilling as it sounds, it didn’t deter me until I realized his father’s death affected him much deeper than I realized. In his effort not to lose me, he’s slowly killing me.

My tongue cleaves to my mouth. I gag, my throat spasming. I have nothing to swallow. My lips crack. Tasting blood my throat attempts to swallow. The blood paints my dry, cracked lips, seeping on my tongue. The taste is a harsh brackishness, it makes acid rise as my tummy rebels. Hot bitterness presses hard in my chest.

I’m crying, eyes burning with tears I can’t shed. Sounding like a small frail, whimpering animal, I’m listening almost removed from the pathetic sounds I make as I listlessly try to pull free. Skin chafing from the rope burns break against the jute making them bleed again.

I whimper against the pain. I really feel like I’m going to die any minute. My nose stings. I can’t even bring myself to be mad at him. I should have listened to his brother. I should have called Kiyoshi when I noticed he’d not slept by the third day. I knew I was out of my depth. He needs help, but I just didn’t want him to be mad at me. Now, I’m trussed up like a turkey about to die from dehydration in a secret room I didn’t even know my husband had. This is what I get.

Something’s happened to him I know it. He would’ve never left me alone this long. The last time he came back after they’d spent all day at their family estate interning his father’s remains and handling his will. They’d met with lawyers after that well into the night. As soon as he came back, he apologized, taking care of me. It was embarrassing because I’d soiled myself. I just couldn’t hold it anymore.

He said nothing hurtful only kept saying how sorry he was. I didn’t want to speak to him anymore after that but eventually I broke because his anguish was so palpable.

“What is really going on with you?” I pled with him.

“I’m fucked up,” was all he’d say.

Blinding light streaks across the room. I can’t see anything. It’s not Hisashi. The crisp citrus and spice are nowhere near the smoke, cedar of him.

“Korewa taihen da” the low, pained question of what has he done is not answered by me. Gentle fingers touch my forehead pushing my head back. “I see you’re still alive, beautiful.” The low soothing tones of Kiyoshi make me squint to see his concerned face.

“No worries. I’m here,” he murmurs. Within seconds he’s cutting away the bindings holding me. He finds out very soon and from my ragged scream they are practically melded to my skin.

Though outwardly I don’t make any sound, inwardly I scream form embarrassment when this pristine man sweeps my filthy, soiled body into his arms. He lays me on the bed, disappearing. Exhaustion tears at me. I have no energy to do anything other than fall into the darkness of sleep. Hours or seconds later, I don’t know, I’m jostled awake.

I gasp when he eases me into warm water. He gives me ice chips to melt on my tongue as the blood saturated jute rope then falls from my body. My body is so tired, too spent to care that my husband’s older brother is giving me a sponge bath.

He dries me and puts me in the bed. His phone chimes. “The doctor is here,” he tells me, leaving. Mortification fills me again but I have no energy to care beyond the internal shame.

He shows the female doctor up into the room and disappears. Coming back, he brings in a large duffle laying it at the foot of the bed then leaves again.

“Ms. Love, I’m Dr. Ishii,” she tells me taking items out of the bag. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“M-my —” I stop my throat still too sore to really talk. Hurrying to give me more ice chips she sets up an I.V. Not being able to find a vein in my arm she has to settle for one in my hand. After securing the butterfly infusion and setting the saturation, she turns back, her eyes clouded with deep concern. “I will ask questions. Do you think you can nod and shake your head yes or no?”

I nod, grateful I don’t have to talk. Even if I could, I doubt I’d get through the entire interview without crying.

“Were you sexually assaulted?”

I shake my head and even add a broken, “No.”

She nods though I can see she doubts me.

“Do you need a pregnancy preventative?”

I shake my head no. I got an IUD the week we got married. It was copper, so it lasts ten years.

“With your permission I’m going to check and dress any wounds.”

After I nod the affirmative, she makes quick work checking and treating the rope burns and abrasions.

“I’m leaving you with pain medication. You are to stay in bed until you finish this I.V. of saline and electrolytes. You are only to go to the restroom. I will leave Mr. Takeda with instructions for your care. Be well, Miss Love.”

“Takeda.” She pauses as she picks up the bag. “Pardon?”

“It’s Mrs. Takeda,” I say in a reedy voice. “Hisashi Takeda is my husband.”

“Sign this,”Kiyoshi tells me a week later.

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